


Drowning

by Filigranka



Category: Slavic Mythology & Folklore
Genre: Dark, Death (temporary. it's cyclic myth after all), Drabble, F/M, eros&thanatos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:20:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: Three drabbles about the triangle between Jarilo, Veles and Marzanna.





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yuuago](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuago/gifts).



> Ha, I intended these as the treat for you in the multifandom drabble exchange - but then life happened. I hope you're still up for some dark, porn-ish drabbles in this fandom!
> 
> Many thanks for Isis for taking a look at this!

I

 

His eyelids are closed, his breath is stopped, and Marzanna knows Jarilo is with Veles, again. Veles holds his spirit, and soon enough he will have his body. But not yet. It still belongs to her.

She slides her finger between Jarilo’s still warm lips, caresses his teeth, the soft inner surface of his mouth, imagining—against her will—Veles taking Jarilo’s chin in his palm, touching his lips with his fingertips oh so lightly, making them open, welcoming—

She groans and kisses Jarilo’s mouth fervently, one last time—then bites off his lips. These, at least, Veles won’t get.

 

II

 

‘You’ll come to me, Lady of the Harvest,’ Veles said, with the irritating certainty only the Lord of the Underworld possessed. ‘Every hill and every meadow are my mouth, every crop and every tree are the children of my loins. My worms are always eating, my hunger is never sated. I’ll let you taste it when you come visit me, Lady of Birth-in-Death. In honour of you I’ll make a feast, and ask my dear Jarilo to sing a song. Maybe I’ll even suffer you to kiss his mouth. My Underworld is full of riches—and I like to share.’

 

III 

 

Humans call it ‘the little death’ and they’re right, although they've already forgotten why, lost in their metaphors.

Yet when Marzanna strangles Jarilo’s life out of him—watching his struggling, his veins pulsating desperately, his lips turning to blue and then red, when he bites them—she feels more real than ever. His life simultaneously drowns her and lights her up, like thunderstorm—

And then she knows she’ll be strong enough to take his life in and pour it out of her; and there’ll be many births in the world this year, and the crops will rise high and healthy.


End file.
